Stitches
by Hermonthis
Summary: A Dark Ace origin story. It’s the people around you who will affect what you will become.
1. Holding Onto Your Cards

A/N: This was conceived around the same time I started _The_ _Man with No Name_. Think of it as a personal challenge to write my own rendition of the original Storm Hawks and have a bit of fun with their names. This will be either two or three chapters.

* * *

**STITCHES **

( chapter one: holding onto your cards )

.

_Oh, Gabriel, let me blow your horn. Let me blow your horn  
Oh, I never did, did no harm._ (Led Zepplin, In My Time of Dying)

- - -

He was the top student in his class to graduate from the Academy on Terra Atmosia. As he stood in line amongst his school mates, a continuous row of teenagers all wearing the same blue flight suit, his black hair and red eyes separated his appearance from the rest. Although he was behind the stage, he stood proudly in line with his chin held up high, and listened carefully to the audience for familiar voices. Behind him, a common boy with a common name urged him to take another step closer to the stage. They were sweating underneath the hot June sun and eager to seek relief underneath the festive blue tents on campus grounds.

"Hey, did your parents make it?" The girl behind the boy whispered, her pink hair fell over her face as her feet shuffled forward to prevent any idiots from taking her well earned spot. Lessons were over, exams were done, and now after four years of training they were ready to receive their diplomas and start their new lives as members of the Sky Knight organization. Parents, siblings, family friends, and grandparents made up the part of the audience, all seated in their simple aluminum chairs, but for the Cyclonian, there was no one to celebrate for him.

"And we want to thank the teachers, staff, and students for making this a wonderful year!" The student body groaned in unison. Everyone knew the headmaster was a talker, including the man himself. All campus assemblies started off with one of his cheesy speeches, and while they usually tolerated it for the sake of being courteous, for once they would love it if he just shut up.

"No," the boy admitted. "They couldn't get passes to attend the graduation."

The girl with the cotton candy hair offered her brief condolences before she disappeared back into the blue line.

The top student in the Academy was also the only native-born Cyclonian. His parents would not be in the audience because of high tensions regarding differing political structures and ideals between Terra Cyclonia and the general Atmos. They were largest piece of earth with the highest untapped reserve of unrefined crystals, and the damn monarchy didn't want to share candy with his friends. There was a lot of bullying on both sides, and the students at the Academy even had lessons on the situation.

Depression was upon them. Seven years ago there was an earthquake that destroyed several minor terras which also resulted in the increased presence of lava beasts from The Wastelands. Terra Cyclonia, being so close to the boiling ground, suffered economically when surrounding terras deemed air travel too dangerous for their ships and starved the people. The monarch protested their misguided fears, he said no land was safer from the monsters than his, and showed them seven hundred years of history to prove it. Once upon a time, all the lands of Atmos were under the rule of his ancestors, buried underneath forgotten epochs when terras used to drift aimlessly and public travel was impossible.

Grudges amongst the old drifted down to the young. The resentment was raised three bars higher when the Master declared he would send no more youths to the Council to train as Sky Knights. For the past two years no Cyclonian graduate was given a proper place in a squadron and their talent was left to waste. It was an insult to their people. There were untouched mountains on their land full of crystals, but no terra wanted the glittering stones regardless of their value.

"Fine," Master Cyclonis declared. "If no one will listen to us, if no one will help us - then we turn our backs on you." He summoned all his people to return to their homeland, to forget about the friends who were preoccupied with their own affairs and help him rebuild their nation. Families came and left him in storms. Those whose businesses suffered as a result of prejudice boarded Cyclonian-funded airships and made for the trek home. There, they learned with bitterness how they were betrayed. The Sky Council vetoed their standing position and would no longer protect any of their students.

It's a fact the future is held in the hands of the children. And Cyclonia's young were abandoned.

Whether it was a conscious decision to cut back on expenses, academies started shutting down everywhere. Sky Knights scrounged for new capable recruits as the white-capped river trickled down into an insufficient stream. Entrance exams became harder, students were turned away, and all this time Terra Cyclonia had no one to protect them.

And Master Cyclonis sat on his throne and spoke again. If the Council would not protect them, then he would create a new military himself, an institute where the young can belong regardless of gender, and find a place in service. He ordered factories built, raised the percentage of employment by thirty percent, and created the Talons.

But there were families who longed for the return of the Sky Knights and the days when passports weren't needed to travel to distant terras. One of those families, two parents with a single boy, sent their son to live off the mainland to fulfill his dream of joining a squadron. His grandfather served as a pilot once, he met his lifelong partner that way, and filled his grandson's head with tales of respect and adventure.

Fairy tales didn't last very long once a child grew up. Now, that boy was a proud young man and eager to receive his diploma, to see his name stamped on the walls of the last remaining campus that took in potential Sky Knights and their crew. One last hope.

Four years studying abroad with the occasional return trip back home. It was ridiculous, he concluded, for terras so close together to hold such animosity between them. If transportation rules weren't so strict, he could hitch a ride on an public airship and go home that way. However, that wasn't the case. Routes were less frequent and a lone traveller was either brave or foolish to embark on a journey to Cyclonia.

Sometimes, his method of transport was downright illegal. In fact, during the last week-long holiday on campus, that's exactly what he did. He stowed away on a fishing ship headed towards Terra Aquinos and came back knowing the exact layout of three other ships. One after another, he hitched a ride just to say hello back home.

After the graduation ceremony, the nineteen students were let loose on campus grounds. The festivities were all held outdoors following the school's long standing tradition.

Someone clapped him on the back. He turned his head around and saw his History instructor pat him on the back. "Always expected the best from you, and now you've finally earned it."

"Thank you, sir." The silver-and-gray haired man led him towards the buffet table and helped himself to an egg tart. The chef may be famous for his pot roast, but his assistant was equally well-known for her desserts. Bringing the flaky pastry to his mouth, he licked his lips and tried to maintain decorum as tasty crumbs flew out of his mouth and littered the ground.

"Do you want one?"

"No, thanks."

He wasn't hungry for food at the moment and it was guaranteed there was always more just in case the ravenous crowds wanted more. Aside from the blinding flashes of light as parents took photos of their grown-up children, he kept wandering amongst the masses looking for someone in particular.

"'ave you zeen ze Rebel Ducks?" A young lady with black hair approached him and he recognized her as a hopeful recruit for Terra Gale. She was a pretty, slender thing and a serious competitor in academic standings. However, it was her pacifist attitude that would never secure her a place as a Sky Knight. Sticking out his thumb, he pointed towards the group behind him. The telltale accent of his schoolmate's homeland was just too noticeable.

The party this year, he gleaned from a huddling group of instructors, had a lower budget compared to the previous group of graduates last year. There was talk about more terras becoming disenchanted with the Sky Council and more squadrons were getting lost in the storms. Inhabitants on Terra Xerxess recorded sightings of Talons flying above, and the Master's recent acquisition of a major motorcycle manufacturer was Atmosia's loss.

"They're called Switchblades. Quicker to produce in mass quantities."

"Don't forget we've got better machines. We have the Sky Knights."

"Sure. Look at the group of apprentices we churned out this year."

"Was that supposed to be sarcasm?"

Unhappy with the political talk, the youth with red eyes continued forward. The group of his choice wasn't present, a squadron with less than thirty years of experience but proved themselves to be worth something – the Storm Hawks. He wanted to go on _The Condor_ more than anything else, be part of their rising legacy, Cyclonian or not.

Regrettably, not very many official squadrons made an appearance tonight. Only a handful of Sky Knights and their teams arrived in time for the ceremonies while the rest were held up by conflicting missions. Selecting new recruits was a ritual that could last for several months. The actual probation period was two weeks, starting from the moment a team member made a connection with a graduate. Most of the time the agreements worked out, but all former students dreaded the waiting time.

In the youth's cynical eyes, today's scheduled festivities was a marketplace where pilots chose potential successors; mechanics tested the cream of the crop by timing how fast they could take apart and repair one of the school's standard sky rides.

Opportunity came that evening when the common boy with the common name nudged him with an elbow between the ribs and relayed a message - someone out front was looking for him. Immediately he abandoned his conversation with a group of individuals who were both his companions and rivals in school; he ran a gloved hand through his black hair and grinned.

"So, this is it. The top student's the first one to get picked."

"Who says I'm going to get picked?"

The young woman with the pink hair tapped a finger against her lips and quirked a suggestive eyebrow. "We all bet twenty each you'd be the first one to go. I bet fifty you'd get picked on the first night."

"You placed a bet on me?" Many of his classmates chuckled at his mock surprise. The smarter ones merely acknowledged the top student knew about it the betting pool all along. The snot was always one for attention. The attitude came with the natural skill.

"Sure did. Fancy you'd steal all the Sky Knights, eh?"

The youth threw his head back and laughed. "No. I only steal the best ones."

* * *

He had pride. Like them, he was an Academy graduate - but in terms of academics, he topped most of them. Not all members studied at the main campus on Terra Atmosia either, both women on board finished their education someplace else. Despite his high recommendation and outstanding innate talent, he felt as if someone had thrown him back to his first days of school where everyone was a stranger and not all of them were friendly.

If the lack of smiles was meant to unnerve him it failed. Challenges like these only served to boost his confidence more; he'd prove he was worthy to join the ranks of the Storm Hawks. He knew it was a trial run, but he'd showcase his worth and make his Academy nickname stick somehow.

The two men walked along the dock, and as he followed the leader, Jay-Jay, he took his first good look at the airship that held the current Atmos speed record, _The Condor_. She was in good shape with very little damage and her exterior was painted with hues of natural brown. As expected, the crew were all older than him; the next in line just turned twenty. Their leader was the oldest, and although the kid was unable to correctly guess his age, his red hair and twinkling eyes made him appear younger than he looked.

His new home had a double-tiered configuration. The hangar bay was situated between the twin engines on the bottom floor. The upper deck consisted of the cockpit where the pilot was usually found, along with the crew's quarters towards the stern. They had a jogging track. The lower deck had the shower, kitchen and galley, and the engine room. Where did they train? In the hangar bay for hand-to-hand combat or in the sky with their sky rides.

She was a small ship compared to some of the larger cargo vessels he'd hitched rides on, but serviceable and according to her grinning pilot, extremely flexible. There were seven separate bunks and one of them was his. He was shown his room immediately and given directions towards the toilet. Afterward, Jay motioned to join him on the deck to meet the ship's carrier pilot.

Upon first glance, there was nothing immediately special about them. They were all humans, all looked relatively normal with their matching blue uniforms and squadron crests. He would learn to differentiate his new crew mates by their hair colour and voices - eventually their character. Everyone on board knew a little about everyone else's jobs, but each had his or her own specialty. Now, they were seven people on a single ship.

For some reason he couldn't quite explain, he became the subject focus for_ her_. She was a few years older and he hated to be treated like a child, but the woman immediately took it upon herself to make his trial period a good one, two weeks which he hoped to gain their approval and write his name in the ship's logbook as a lasting member – in pen. He wondered how many times she had written down other potential candidates, probably formulated nicknames in her head as she penciled in their names and made sure the spelling was correct only to erase them afterward.

The first time he was shown the log book, he made a mental note to check up on it later. This was during his probation period and although he knew the squadron leader would ask him to stay, he wasn't so eager to become companions with the rest of the crew. It wasn't the right time - yet. Like any new place, some things need some getting used to.

And so the personalities began. And the boy commenced his analysis of the Storm Hawks crew.

He kept a book of his own, a clean journal given to him by his parents during the last summer he spent back in Cyclonia, but bound in treated leather so it was somewhat waterproof. That handy addition hadn't come with the family care package; it was something he had to trade and barter off one of his fellow students back at the Academy for. A small luxury. He knew it was an unusual request since most students asked for something more popular, such as trafficking crystals the instructors forbade them to use - eventually the pages of this unwritten book would be filled up and its purpose fulfilled, but it was _his._

He could write whatever he wanted and nobody would censor him, not like the letters students sent home. He could insert photographs and clippings and every page inside that book would be a lifetime reminder of what the world was like through his eyes, not someone else's. The habit of writing came naturally, just like all his other talents, and by the time he was in his third month of Academy training, he had mastered it.

What was in that backpack of his when he arrived on _The Condor_? His journals. Small and compact and discrete, their handcrafted pages carried the secrets of every individual he met in school and in his travels. Appearance, history, occupation – and meaningless trivia. What he wasn't told forthright he gleaned from other people or by accidentally overhearing conversations in the locker room.

They were his thoughts on the world, his opinions of the known Atmos. And why not? Historians and professors did it all the time. Some of them became equally famous for their writings. So why would a young recruit like him with a different perspective not be entitled to the same privilege?

And he started with _her_, the first person on board to smile at him. His scribbling was basic at first, but as time stretched along and the months grew, the names of the Storm Hawks appeared in frequency alongside his.

The first night on the ship he flipped open to the first page of the stitched notebook, wrote down the date on the top left-hand corner followed by his initials.

_Robin._

Her name was plain and honest and like the rest of her at first glance, so was she. Her best friend was an intimidating looking woman, tall with a constant look of cynicism on her face, as if she was ready to throw you against the wall and interrogate you until you peed yourself. Her name was Ibis. The ship's pilot was Pitta, a quiet androgynous guy he easily ignored. The resident doctor was Manakin, a stocky man with golden hair. The last person he met on the team he hardly remembered aside from the fact he had the most hilarious name he'd ever heard - _Hihi_.

_Hihi._ God, what were his parents thinking when they named their kid? And he thought the women's names were odd.

And of course there was the leader. The redhead. The optimist. The Blue Jay.

Time passed easily. He caught on well enough and learned secrets of human nature from watching his companions. Two weeks of hands-on practicum in the engine room and the cockpit. Smirking, he grabbed hold of the steering wheel and maneuvered the ship away from several storms as they passed over Terra Gale which earned him a jovial pat on the back. The kid had an undisclosed advantage over the other Academy graduates, his hitchhiking experience allowed him to study the interior of various ships. Once or twice in the past, he gained the trust of a small-time pirate who taught him to navigate. He knew the seedy routes like the back of his hand. Jay and the rest of the Storm Hawks could throw anything at him and within the first three attempts he understood the schematics and the routine.

He earned his nickname. (of course, it had always been his)

"Hey, you're a natural." The redheaded leader stated the obvious with a smile on his tanned face, and left him to do his work while he discussed the team's next mission with someone else.

Then the two weeks of probation passed and he wasn't sent away. The initiation itself was nothing special despite rumours the Doctor wanted to cover him in tar and blow chicken feathers all over his suit with a fan. As an alternative, they had a party on the main deck to celebrate the last true member of the Storm Hawks.

"True?"

"Yeah kid," the Doctor chided and helped himself to more pecan tarts, courtesy of Terra Mesa. The boy grimaced. He disliked references to his age and very few people were permitted to do that. Hopefully, they'd pick up the hint sooner rather than later. "It took our fearless leader several rounds to find people crazy enough to stick with him, being a Sky Knight these days don't exactly add up to a high paycheck."

At least that part was true. And yet, they presented him with his own sky ride to keep.

Missions were fun and he wished they allowed him to tag along more frequently. Suited up in an official uniform and presented with his own sky ride, he broke his vehicle in half when a Sky Pirate came at him from the side and slashed his engine in two. It was an embarrassing defeat for a first-timer in battle and humiliating for someone who was supposed to be the top student at the Academy. He expected the vermin to come at them with some unorthodox fighting techniques, but theory had its loopholes when applied to reality.

As he was falling backwards and just about to deploy his parachute, Robin grabbed the back of his shirt and hauled him up so he could sit behind her. This was also the first time he saw her without a friendly smile on her features. She was gritting her teeth and the muscles in her cheeks were taut.

"First time? You could've kept watch on your sides."

"I didn't expect it." Licking his cracked lips, he considered repaying the favour. "Thanks for saving me."

Her shoulders rose up and down, and he knew she was chuckling. Somehow, it made him feel inadequate. "Hey, no problem."

Two months passed. Since that incident, he made an oath to never get caught off-guard again, and he kept to his word. When he wasn't at the cockpit, he was in the hangar bay training with someone, most likely Ibis. And when they weren't on missions and had some extra gas to spare, Jay took him out and tested his skills on their sky rides.

The leader of the Storm Hawks had skill, the black-haired youth admitted; the man could stand on his ride ready for battle and nudge the controls with barely a toe. His balance was impeccable and his sword – damn, that double-bladed sword, sang through the air and sliced metal like butter.

"Where'd you get a thing like that?" he inquired as they parked their vehicles in the hangar. The Sky Knight opened his locker and threw him a towel to wipe off the sweat from his brow.

"Trade secret."

"Who forged it for you? Most weapons don't use the double-blade -- it makes the sword too heavy for most people."

"Guess I'm not 'most people'." He opened the door and walked into the galley where he saluted Hihi and Robin who were in the middle of a game of poker. The stakes? Various chores on _The Condor_. The redhead stood behind her, took a look at her cards before stroking his chin and whispered into her ear.

"Get your own goddamn game, Jay." The other man stated monotonously.

"Lighten up. I'm just giving her a few pointers." He took two of her cards and placed it face down on the table, squeezed her shoulder and took a step to the side. He waited.

"No flirting on board, Captain." The man warned automatically although they knew it held no serious threat. This seemed to be standard procedure. Ace watched the exchange like a fly on the wall until the woman caught his attention, glanced out of the corner of her eyes, and winked at him.

"The captain can do whatever he wants because he's the captain." Jay replied. After several minutes of casual observation, Robin won the hand. The leader of the Storm Hawks didn't try to conceal his joy. Apparently, her opponent was equally pleased.

"The captain has just secured this poor man's bet."

The man's eyes widened as the youth's red eyes looked on in amusement. Clearly there was chemistry here, and he had only begun to submerge into each layer of history. On his first day of recruitment, he had to sit down in his bunk and read the entire Sky Knight manual. According to the guidelines, in-house romances were discouraged to prevent potential bitterness amongst those who should act as a family. On the other hand, they were only guidelines and many, if not all squadrons, dropped the rule.

One of the first things he learned on board was to never fully listen to the Sky Council. They were a bunch of old senile fools with good intentions, but at times, out of touch with the reality of the world. They didn't fly like the rest of them. They gave that up a long time ago.

The new boy never did get the official word on what the bet consisted of, although the graduate had a guess as to what it consisted of. For some reason, Jay was stuck with garbage duty for the rest of the week.

And suddenly, _the Condor_ felt like home.


	2. Reading Your Names

A/N: Have you ever planned an entire chapter only to write it completely different afterward? That's what happened here. Three chapters then!

* * *

**STITCHES**

( chapter two: reading your names )

.

_Here was the place I chose to stand.  
Just when I think I'm going under,  
I... remain. _(Brian Eno, Under)_  
_

- - -

Robin was ecstatic beyond control when she heard Jay finally gave him an official position on the team. The Sky Knight beckoned him this morning when the boy was doing chores in the hangar bay, scrubbing and mopping up the explosive remains of a mouldy melon from last night. The guys must have been extremely bored and decided to raid the garbage bins for something gross and sticky and extremely amusing. Well, going to bed after several bottles of beer and leaving the mess to the new guy wasn't so amusing to the Academy graduate.

"Ace." The Sky Knight signaled to him.

"Yeah?" He dropped the rag he was using into the soapy bucket on the floor and thought twice about wiping his hands on his blue flight suit.

"Come with me."

He had gotten used to hearing his name called out repeatedly by the rest of the Storm Hawks. It happened often. Whether it was part of a strange and subvert initiation process to test his patience or they were just lazy, he was always in demand by one of the crew members; at least, during the day.

Most of the time he spent in the cockpit with _The Condor's_ androgynous pilot, Pitta. The first few times they were alone it was awkward. He wasn't the type to open up and start a conversation unless it was to extract information for his journal, and Pitta was content to sit back and give him a turn at the helm.

Some members of the team needed him more than others, such as Jay and Ibis. When he wasn't steering the airship or doing chores around the deck, he was training in the hangar bay or in the sky. They didn't carry swords. They had no double-blades similar to their Sky Knight's, but used quarterstaves both as their offense and defense.

It was practical, the warrior woman reasoned, to learn how to use the equipment effectively. Once upon a time, before the Atmos became a world of rivets and crystals, the people made weapons out of the trees. Quarterstaves used to be made out of Oak or Hawthorne. These days, all weapons were made out of lightweight metal – the ends of their weapons were specially capped with a contraption to hold various crystals for additional power.

His days at the Academy taught him how to ride a bike both on ground and in the air, but for all their technique, they didn't teach him how to fight realistically. He knew the formations, how they looked from one standing on the ground or up in the air, and he knew how to flow from one pattern into the next, but the sky was a much bigger place than the self-contained playing grounds of school.

"Pull up!" His leader commanded. His voice was stern as he yanked on the controls and executed a backwards somersault spontaneously as if he had just decided to take a breath. He followed suit and ended up a little wobbly once his vestibular system readjusted to the quick change.

It was different and he liked it. Here, there were no instructors who were concerned with the health and safety risks of their students; he was part of a squadron now. Injury was imminent but preventable, and as new as he was, he felt the exhilaration of going into battle knowing he was doing something of value. He was protecting people.

They were well into their third hour of training when Jay called him back to _The Condor_ for a break. They would be continuing in the afternoon. It was his third month following recruitment, and the past two weeks had been slow. Not that he wanted the skies to be filled with Sky Pirates and bounty hunters, but he wanted to know what was happening with the world outside of the airship. They traveled from place to place, he noticed, unlike other squadrons who remained close to their terras of origin. Once he asked his captain about this anomaly and Jay turned his face down at the boy with a silencing look. He didn't mention it again.

It was lunchtime. The good doctor also happened to be their regular cook and prepared carefully crafted meals for the team to consume. Truth be told, he was getting sick of chicken salad and longed for something less healthy and juicier, like spaghetti and meatballs or saucy barbecued hamburgers.

Many of them didn't bother cleaning up for mealtimes. They came in from wherever they worked from, although the doctor would make sure everyone had clean hands and faces and emphasized the importance of rolling up their sleeves lest bacteria gather on their plates.

"Give it a rest, Manny," one of the women groaned. She pressed a hand to her forehead to emphasize her tiredness from the constant nagging.

"Where's Robin?"

"In the engine room," was Ibis's automatic reply. Sure enough, the woman in question appeared with her auburn hair tied back from her head. Her greasy monkey suit was zipped down to the waist and wrapped around her middle.

"How's the hot water tank?" Jay inquired and motioned for her to sit at the table. Noticing there weren't enough seats, she made a motion to grab the missing chair from the adjacent galley but the redhead offered up his position in lieu of the extra work. As he disappeared into the other room and clattered about searching for the seventh chair, Robin sat down next to Ace and sighed.

"We're gonna need new engine crystals for the gas burner. And _better ones_ this time. The last batch was starting to burn a hole through the electrical crystal unit." Here she cranked up the volume of her voice to make sure a certain captain would hear.

"We need higher-grade engine crystals if everyone's going to keep taking showers in the morning!"

"I heard!"

Talk at the table ranged from delegating household chores to what they heard on the radio. A lot of the in-house complaints came from Manakin and Ibis, who sometimes sat beside each other five days in a row, then ignored the other person's presence for the following three consecutively.

By this time he knew where each of his teammates had studied and which Sky Knight academy they graduated from. Most of them came from the northern quadrants, with the exception of Hihi who hailed from the southwest. Many of them did not know each other until they met their future leader and heard his proposal to form a new squadron to replace the one his home terra had lost. All he had to offer was an outdated license and his grandfather's airship, _The Condor. _

"What made you join?"

"Adventure," admitted the pilot. "Definitely not the pay, not the way the Sky Council kept cutting back on our salaries twice during the first year I was here."

Thus began the Storm Hawks, a new team of graduates from differing years. They were lucky enough to find each other in a breaking world where everyone was accusing everyone else of skimping on supplies and money. It was normal to meet up with a fellow squadron and discover someone was replaced. Unhappy graduates left for something better and left public service for private hire.

The boiling ground underneath the skyline was acting up again, and citizens were worried another natural disaster like the earthquake from seven years ago would come to pass once more. Less terras were drifting apart, perhaps due to the crystal advancements from Cyclonia to ensure the Atmos remained together. It was technology Master Cyclonis shared, but there were some groups who accused him of conspiring against the other lands. Did he know large quantities of crystals helped secure a terra's geographical location? How long had he kept this knowledge? He was hoarding the mines for himself.

Back at home, the Storm Hawks tried not to talk about politics too much since Jay told them their youngest and newest recruit was born Cyclonian. Not that it mattered, he reassured them, he was a good kid and Jay was a good judge of character.

"You have family back at home?" inquired the doctor.

"My mother and my father."

"Any brothers or sisters?"

"I'm an only child."

Manny chuckled and let out a silent bark of amusement. With the sleeves of his white shirt rolled up to his elbows, he leaned back in his chair with the remains of raspberry vinaigrette on his plate. He inhaled deeply through his nose and pursed his mouth into a ring. The mannerism almost made the boy wonder if he had been a chain smoker before becoming a doctor. He certainly didn't smoke now.

"I've got a cousin who moved there just recently. Says it isn't as bad as everyone thinks it is."

"It isn't."

"I know," he continued. "But my aunt and uncle weren't too proud of her for moving away. Neither was my mom."

Afternoon came and went. Jay gave him the promotion and once they were back on the solid floors of _The Condor_ they went straight to the engine room and told the mechanic about Ace's new position as co-pilot. The squealing hurt his ears. She hastily wiped her greasy hands on an oily rag and stalked them all the way down the main galley with mirth twinkling in her green eyes. When the Sky Knight excused himself and headed for the bathroom the woman threw her arms up in the air and tackled him in a well-meaning hug. The boy looked down at his suit and knew he'd have to wash it right away.

He was used to her antics by now, but it was still embarrassing. Robin was one of the few individuals who could get away with this only because she was harmless. However, he still needed his dignity and was slowly suffocating under her small but tight hold. Before any of the other crew members saw them together and decided to take a potshot at his expense, he wiggled his shoulders and they broke apart.

"I'm so proud of you!" she squealed. She raised her hands to her face and marked her cheeks black. "I just knew you would get the job!"

"You knew I would be co-pilot?"

"Oh, that's not what I meant! Congratulations!"

He meant to write to his family that night and tell them the good news; however, he was detained from his usual evening routine when they were all called to the cockpit for some celebration time in the form of white pound cake and some fresh fruit. No alcohol for this party, they reasoned. Although he was of age, they still thought the new co-pilot was too young to experience the emotional disaster of getting smashed.

They celebrated every chance they got, no matter how small. It was a way to forget about all the financial and political trouble. He was already instigated as a member and now they were celebrating such a small promotion. It was the equivalent of presenting the squadron with a new type of quarterstaff. The reality of life as a Storm Hawk struck him, and it almost hurt.

The hours past six o'clock on the ship indicated the start of the night shift. Since they usually flew in the daytime, they had the natural light of the sky to illuminate the rooms of _The Condor_ to conserve energy and minimize crystal usage. But when the sun set the carrier pilot docked the ship at the closest available terra and turned on the lights. Without the sun to shine through the windows, most areas of the ship were submerged in darkness save for the small red lights that outlined the bridge and the doorways. Home became a different world altogether, and the bright pastel colours flipped over like the opposite side of a pillow and became softer, darker, and silent.

Gathered around the table with all the lights turned down low, the silence surrounded them like a bubble where all conversation bounced off each person as if they were a wall.

Pitta caught his eye and with a crooked finger, quietly motioned for him to come over. Wiping cake crumbs off his face with his index finger, he tapped the box underneath the pilot's seat.

"They say you're too young – I think you're mature enough to know when to stop. Do you want one?"

"No."

"Your loss." Shrugging his shoulders, he snapped open the latch and grabbed the neck of a green bottle; discreetly hid it within the folds of his black vest.

"Is that a cooler under there?"

"Don't tell anyone about it, alright?"

"Yeah, sure."

* * *

He learned the secrets of human nature from watching his companions. There was no doubt which individual was the quiet one, who liked to stay up at night to watch the stars while the rest of the squadron snored away in their bunks. _The Condor_ became more of a home to him than any other place had, more than the Academy, more than Cyclonia.

The Sky Knight made them jump from terra to terra, always searching for a place to go and a new mission to complete. While he knew the layout of the underground trade, his leader knew the connections between squadrons and could pinpoint which terras held the most influence over the Sky Council. One of their favourite visiting spots was Terra Rex, homeland of the Rex Guardians. One of his best school mates from long ago was stationed there.

Everyone on board had family somewhere. They had parents, brothers and sisters, close friends – but none of them had children or lasting partners. It was hard subject to address, to be a team with no land to call their own, and therefore no place to settle. They might even be called exiles. However, he wasn't surprised during the party when Ibis and the Doctor disappeared together. Ace raised an inquiring eyebrow and the carrier pilot shrugged and told him to let it go. Everyone dealt with the situation in their own way, and sometimes it was better to turn a blind eye to whatever happened behind closed doors.

On some nights he didn't sleep as well as the others, but he was always the early riser. When they docked as guests on another terra, he felt safer on this ship than sleeping in some strange room. He knew it was all about the network, the mesh of fabric that held the people of Atmos together. The Sky Knights were more than just protectors; they were upholders of the law. They established the familiar relations between the government and the public that would otherwise been left to spoil. He was a mediator.

History can be dry. Historians tacked on the names and places that shook up the foundation of the known world. They wrote what they thought was better for everyone. Words in a textbook easily became just as important as scripture. Back in the Academy, he memorized all the subsequent Sky Council policies implemented to secure the economic security of the Atmos. He also noticed there was no mention of aid for Cyclonia. That part was true. But wasn't true was voice of authority inside his head who drilled him. His pre-teen years hammered the clear disadvantages of terra Cyclonia. The monarchy was outdated and primitive. No one needed a king anymore. The people had to change.

Little things like that; little cracks in the books lifted off the paper and entered the unknowing heart. Up until now, he had been a closet Cyclonian and referenced his land of birth only in times of requirement. He knew this peace wouldn't last for long.

* * *

There were too many voices in the hallway. They whispered in urgent tones to make sure no one else heard.

One morning it sounded like Hihi and the carrier pilot. They discussed something they read in the newspaper they picked up on Terra Pax during their stay with the Interceptors. Crystal prices were rising again and they'd have to cut down on _something_ in order to maintain the shipment of engine crystals Robin needed to keep the ship running adequately. Next week it was Ibis's new boyfriend who made clandestine visits in the night, but failed to completely smother the squeaking and the groaning that came through the walls at four in the morning. Everyone pretended they slept right through the hour-long sessions, but the bags under their eyes said otherwise.

And there was shouting. Mainly in the gray area between romance and sex and what every squadron should follow according to the Guidebook but no one paid attention to. Ibis never kept them for long, it wasn't in her nature, but it was always one person she went back to regarding of his obvious hate for her that morning.

The longer he stayed, the more he noticed the separation between friends. He felt invisible and noticeable when the calendar crept closer to holidays and various team members took sky ride and left for a day or two only to return with their saddlebags full of presents. Ace never went home - it wasn't for the lack of a passport but for the potential blemish that might char his image amongst the crew. Instead he wrote letters and took pictures; photographs either taken by Robin or Jay to showcase how much the Cyclonian-born son had grown. He was an experienced traveler, a hard worker, and a good kid.

Six months as a Storm Hawk he got into a fight with the carrier pilot of another squadron whom he graduated with back in the Academy. The boy was angry, looking for blood, and screamed at Ace for the loss of his older sister. A public airship was shot down by Sky Pirates within Cyclonian territory and the Talons did nothing but watch. Inhumane bastards. They only looked after their own people.

A bloodied nose and multiple lacerations later, the Rebel Duck conceded defeat and lay on the dirt ground, weeping. The captains of both squadrons appeared a little too late with the entire company in tow and separated the boys. Ace had not planned to hurt his former classmate any further, but he was out of control and wouldn't stop.

Back in the kitchen, Ibis placed some ice cubes in a slightly damp washcloth and handed it to him. With her olive complexion and dark hair, the bruises on his skin seemed to match her natural tones. "Hey, it's not your fault."

"I know it's not my fault." He retorted and grabbed a handful of his pants just above the knee and simulated the sensation of killing something.

Her eyes flashed dangerously. He sobered.

"Don't do that again."

"I won't."

She sent him to see the resident doctor. He went to his bunk instead.

* * *

Robin lied down on the couch, grabbed a seat cushion and used it as a pillow as she curled her legs underneath her. He noticed she did that often, walked around on deck with her face and arms covered in grease and used the furniture as if she were in her own room. Well, it wasn't. They were in the galley and she watched him with a rather amused smile on her rosy face.

"Are you happy here?"

"I guess."

She laughed and said that wasn't a real answer. From the moment she first smiled at him, he knew she took an immediate liking to his character. It made him feel like a novelty toy, something others could play with. Later she admitted it was the combination of his boyish charm melded with his advanced maturity that made him rather attractive.

"How old are you now? I'm thinking seventeen… eighteen?" Keeping track of ages wasn't her forte, but she was all right with numbers. She wasn't a navigator, but she was the easiest to get along with.

He set his water glass down on the table. He rested his elbows on his knees and positioned his body so the light from the windows fell over his jet black hair and face, casting half of him in shadow.

"Eighteen."

She squinted when she laughed.

"I was always bad at that kind of thing."

"Don't worry about it," Ace teased her. "People always mistake you for my little sister all the time."

He raised an eyebrow when his conversation partner spluttered from the jab, whipped out the cushion underneath her head and chucked it at him.

"Hey!" He threw it back at her.

"Jerk."

Jay was right; it was easy to get a rise out of her. Grinning, he turned the question on her. "Say, and how old are you?"

Settling back down, she reclined on the couch and pretended to take a nap. The adult kid playing the older sister bit. Robin had a twin sister back at home – his teammate was older. He was aware she hailed from Terra Edmontonia.

"Guess."

Ah, trying to snare him with a trick question. Too bad, he's already got the card up his sleeve.

"You act like you're fifteen, but you look twenty-seven. I don't think you're my age. How about twenty-three?"

Laughter filled up the empty living room. It was unusually clean for the home movie Jay planned for tonight. He took Robin's vocal answer as a sign he was very close, but not accurate.

"Twenty-two."

"You're old."

"Not compared to our fearless leader."

"So, how old is he?"

"Guess."

* * *

When he was eleven he hitched a ride back to Cyclonia on a cargo ship carrying livestock and became well acquainted with the cows and chickens for the sheltered farms. It was painful to fly back home because he knew how much his parents looked forward to seeing him. As an only child, they gave him the best present he could have wished for – a chance to join a squadron. They didn't ask how he got home or when his next visit would be, but allowed him the freedom he needed. He realized it was their way of showing affection but that did not stop their worrying. He made sure to take good care of himself at school.

"Your grandfather's sick."

"How is he?"

"Not good. We're going to visit him tomorrow at the hospital."

The retired soldier looked sickly and pale in the bed, but his spirit remained the same. After the greetings and the well wishes, the older man requested to speak alone to his sole grandchild while his son and daughter-in-law remained outside. Ace wasn't afraid of dying, he knew he had to conquer the fear of death if he attended the Academy, but it was disease and sickness he abhorred. One couldn't fight a battle against yourself – in his eyes, it was the biggest betrayal of all. He couldn't imagine having one's immune system turn on you.

"How are you, Ace?" His grandfather had christened him with that nickname, said his grandmother had been blessed with some kind of seeing gift. He was grateful for it.

"I'm good. How are you?"

"Tired."

A few more beats to allow the elderly a breath of oxygenated air, and he spoke about the Sky Council. It was an honour to be knighted, to have that responsibility and respect on your shoulders, but he had to be wary of outsiders. One day Ace would travel the world, no doubt he was starting to now, but gave a word to the wise. Trust no one but a Cyclonian. It all came down to blood; he revealed to his grandson, it was all about the history between their people. Compared to the young ideals of the free Atmos, a Cyclonian was royalty. There was a reason the monarchy held on for so long.

When the holidays were almost over and the new semester approached, his parents opened another secret; he was supposed to have a younger sister. His mother was pregnant one year after he was born, but there were complications and she lost the fetus in less than five months. It was hard, but expected. Miscarriages were commonplace considering the air quality in Cyclonia failed in comparison to the general Atmos. It was the biological accumulation of generations who partook in crystal mining. It was the lava flows underneath the terra. But despite all adversity, they survived.

That night when he went to bed, he took out his book on Ornithology. With a fresh Solaris Crystal inserted into the table lamp, he stayed at his desk and absorbed the pages, studied and memorized the life cycle of different species. Some of them were endangered while others were extinct.

He wondered what his sister's name might have been had she survived.


	3. Turning the Deck

A/N: Adele's song is one-half of the reason why I'm writing this story in the first place. It's bittersweet, initially misleading, and a lullaby all at once. (The other half was researching bird names.) I was supposed to finish this story before the end of October, but NaNoWriMo got in the way.

I hope I succeeded in my quest to humanize the Dark Ace.

* * *

**STITCHES**

( chapter three: turning the deck )

.

_This love has dried up and stayed behind  
And if I stay, I'll be a lie…_

_Forgive me, first love.  
Forgive me. _(Adele)

- - -

And he loved her in a way he didn't quite know how. He grew up - and like the majority of adults who remembered what it was like to leave adolescence and breathe in the real world with their own way, he discovered himself in his writing. He realized himself in his unsaid thoughts.

In the future, several months after he will leave the Storm Hawks and pledged his loyalty to Cyclonia, several months after he left the Storm Hawks and pledged his loyalty to Terra Cyclonia, he would flip through his journal. His guarded heart clenched in something he refused to call pain, and reflected on the little steps that eventually led him here.

His former teammates, the life lessons imparted from Jay, Robin and Ibis - the almost heartbreaking awareness he suffered just thinking of them. The awareness of a young man. The Storm Hawks weren't perfect. They never were.

Ace prided himself on his judgment, both in his person and in others. He was able to discern the core aspect of personalities and work out the reasoning behind actions. Visceral movements, relationships between other people who were friends or otherwise, he thought he knew everyone from a few well-calculated glances.

But for a time, he looked into a mirror and wondered what others saw in him.

He knew he was a naturally competitive individual, and perhaps that resulted from his status as an only child and a foreigner. It was no secret he wanted to improve himself in all aspects of life, especially in school and work. He thought education was crucial; if he had a school with a good name he could go anywhere and progress. He'd get into a good squadron. No, an _excellent_ squadron - and build his reputation from there. He would have networks upon networks of support. His name would whispered upon the lips of every Sky Knight. Maybe he'd get a few medals on the side as a reward of good work from the Sky Council.

To be a Sky Knight, what a dream that would be. But he was a Storm Hawk right now. All his calculations and ambition said his current position made it easier for him to secure his future post. But with the world trapped in a state of craziness, stepped in economic instability and anger everywhere, the title never seemed so far away. It never did before. Everything was supposed to be easy for him.

And once he was a Sky Knight, what else was there to look forward to? The ambition seemed to stop. Would Atmosians accept him once they learned of his background? Just how biased were they to look into his red eyes and label him a traitor? Would they even care?

Yeah, he was a Storm Hawk all right; one with big, unanswered questions that loomed in his mind.

He took his Captain and the crew seriously. They were all responsible adults despite Ibis's sexual promiscuity, Pitta's borderline alcoholism, and Hihi's recurring disappearances. And Robin, he couldn't forget her. She always took the lighter side to life and joked around Jay. As individuals, Ace was convinced they were all screwed up and wanted none of it. As a team, they were all too clean-cut, and far too optimistic. They managed to scrape past trouble without too many injuries, and despite hardship persisted in finding bright gemstones of hope for the land of Atmos. The Storm Hawks gave the people hope. Ace wished someone would do the same for Cyclonia.

By the time the red-eyed fighter started reading newspapers religiously, he also paid more attention to the news broadcasts on the radio instead of tuning in to listen to the Top Twenty. He started to resent all the news anchors on the projector screen and schooled himself away from potential heated arguments. The doctor was very vocal and always had something to say about tonight's hot topic.

It depressed him. Relations between Master Cyclonis and the Sky Council reached an all-time low, and the popularity polls showed a rift in confidence towards the current governing body. Atmosians didn't trust Cyclonians, and while the Cyclonians had been patient for a time, now they fought against other terras. He saw barbed wires everywhere. His parents started writing to him more and asked him to come home. He hadn't been back since he joined the squadron. The boy replied casually to their frantic calls and started to lie.

Ace was doing just fine.

One quiet afternoon when there was nothing to do, Jay decided the team needed needed a break. Ace went up to the empty cockpit to see if there were any calls from home. These days, there was a rule that prohibited free communication without strict regulation from a third party. The doctor put his foot down on the Council's ridiculous fears and rewired the lines so the boy could contact his parents without detection. He replied to their voice messages through the radio communicator and nearby ships wouldn't detect the signal from _the Condor_.

The carrier pilot used to be in the kitchen but now he was downstairs in the hangar bay with everybody else. It was their midday break and the ruckus that reverberated through the floor from Ibis's warrior cries was all he needed to know they were enjoying playing some basketball. As he passed the large, round table where Jay gave out his plans for the Storm Hawks, he noticed his squadron leader hiding in the shadow of a close corridor.

"Jay?" The man looked downcast with his arms tight around his torso and his distinct red hair obscured by the dim light. He raised his head at the mention of his name.

"Hey." It wasn't much of a greeting.

"Hey. What are you doing there?"

The older man didn't answer right away, but he parted his lips in what might have been a sigh before he slumped against the door behind him. Deciding not to engage unless he was spoken to, the boy tapped the speedometer on the ship's dashboard and made a routine check of all the knobs and dials of the airship without incident. There were no messages for him.

Briefly, he looked out of the windows at the clear, blue sky and wondered if they would get an assignment tonight. If not today, then tomorrow. They were nearing the southern border, in the direction of Hihi's home terra which was somewhere close to Tropica.

"You like it here, Ace?" Jay spoke bluntly. His voice sounded hoarse.

"Yeah. I do."

Again, his superior didn't verbally respond but merely nodded his head before withdrawing back into his private thoughts. The boy got the impression he was supposed to leave, but there was a mystery here, and he wanted to solve it.

"Hey, Jay. I have a question for you."

"Shoot."

"How old are you?"

The redhead chuckled softly, the first indication of a better mood. The boy didn't know, but he had been thinking all day since he woke up early this morning. While everybody else, including Robin, were downstairs, he silently left them and made his way to the cockpit where he could brood in solitude until the young Cyclonian arrived.

"I told you once."

"That was months ago."

He was a good kid. Really. If it wasn't for his background, he would have made one hell of a Sky Knight. Jay wondered if the boy knew at all. Maybe he did. There was a smart head on his shoulders, but he remembered how young the newest recruit was. Too young.

This morning he talked to the Sky Knight of the Rex Guardians over the radio, and their conversation wasn't hopeful. His old friend from the Academy was training a new squadron leader for the past four months. When Jay shouted what the hell Montagu was doing with an apprentice, a wave of panic rose so quickly in his chest that he had to fight for his breath just to remain calm.

"He's my nephew's friend. A young kid named Harrier."

"What's he like?" Jay tried to ignore the tone of desperation in his friend's voice.

"Really young, almost like your kid Ace there, but maybe a year or two older. He's a little too strict with the books, but I know he can take over. He'll be working with the team once I leave for my next mission."

Jay remained quiet for some time.

"So, you're actually going to Cyclonia?"

"Yeah. Orders from the Council." The redhead closed his eyes and damned the old men who ran the organization. That assignment was a one-way trip. The change in the Rex Guardian was drastic and fatalistic. It was unlike him and very much like a desperate man.

"Jay?"

"Hey, man."

"I want you to meet Harrier and his crew. You know I'm not going alone, so there's new positions' opening up."

"I understand."

"And Jay?"

"Yes."

"Stay in touch with the Interceptors."

"Sure will."

"And hey- do me one last favour, man."

"What is it, Montagu?"

"You know there's going to be a war. The guys on the news are just bullshitting us." The man on the other line started to get agitated, and his voice got louder in volume until his conversation partner reminded him the rest of the Storm Hawks were still asleep. "My time is over, Jay." The pain in those words hurt. "I've done everything I could for the Council, and they still put her on the blacklist. This is it, man. I'm done."

"Montagu-" The redhead interjected his comrade's soliloquy before he started saying words that he would soon regret; or worse, unhinge his already frazzled brain. But the Rex Guardian was beyond help at this point in time; before he cut the line, he gave the captain one last piece of advice.

"Get married, Jay. It's been nice working with you."

- - -

In the rare silence of _the Condor_, in the beauty and the solitude of the empty cockpit, Jay felt a piece of himself break away and disintegrate. Like a jigsaw puzzle, made up of hundreds or thousands of different portions – all given and taken away from the people he'd met over the years.

"Jay?"

The redhead blinked; his brows came together as Ace repeated his name to break him out of his reverie. He smiled and asked the boy what he wanted.

"How old are you?"

"Thirty."

* * *

Where to go? Atmosia or Cyclonia? Which life was better, which one was worthwhile? How is it possible, in the span of thirty years, for one group of people to hate another?

The number of assignments for the Storm Hawks double-tripled in volume soon the day after Ace found his squadron leader alone on the upper decks. The team hardly visited the other squadrons, many of them were no longer at home, and they had to dock at seaside stations or unpopulated terras. The seasons were changing, it was quickly becoming autumn and flying during consecutive evenings of thunderstorms was too dangerous.

In his red eyes, the precious squadrons of Atmosia were becoming exiles, just like the Storm Hawks – one by one. Captains bought each other drinks in hopes of filtering information, navigators whispered rumours regarding which teams to trust and which ones to be wary of. Former members of the Sky Knight organization had two choices. Either they contacted their ex-mates and declare their loyalty to Atmosia or risk being blacklisted. And once you were blacklisted, it was hard work to get the trust of the Sky Council back.

Those who refused to give their loyalty under pretense of fear weren't arrested. They were usually the ones who left the service for private hire. Their business was legitimate of course, and it was none of the Council's concern to interrogate the motive of their customers. Since no restrictions could be imposed on that sector of the economy, they were discredited instead.

Someone who stayed neutral was obviously not a true Atmosian. Only true Atmosians could understand that the ways of Terra Cyclonia were outdated and dangerous. Master Cyclonis was born into his status, he didn't deserve it. The world was coming to a close – everyone was suffering from inflation. Why would you risk a journey to that hard-boiled piece of blackened rock instead of building a home under the protection and the insurance of Atmos? Cyclonia didn't have Sky Knights. Atmosia did.

Words know how to hurt and the Cyclonian-born Storm Hawk hated it all. As the weeks whipped by he grew bitter, distanced himself from his old schoolmates from the Academy who had their own personal demons to content with. Ibis and Manny stood up for him, not that he couldn't stand up for himself. He wanted to shout more, write less in his journal, and give those stupid newspapers a piece of his angry mind.

What kind of reporters did this land have anyway? Just because graduates of the Academy were excellent fliers didn't make all Cyclonian graduates living examples of Master Cyclonis's breeding program. Bullshit about eugenics. There was no secret cult that revolved around the name and title of 'Master Cyclonis' – there were no sacrificial virgins sent to the lava beasts to ensure a good crystal harvest that season.

He started to think all sentience was overrated. Human beings in general, were stupid.

Ace distanced himself from his team, just as the team started to move away from each other. If he wasn't familiar with their temperaments before life changed, he might have thought it was just another argument, and most of the time it was. But if he took a step back and analyze the bigger picture, he could draw large, looping circles with all the gaps. Those gaps expanded beyond the Storm Hawks and involved the rest of the squadrons - beyond that were the terras.

The Rebel Ducks announced their support of the Sky Council while Terra Glockenheime decided not to renew their Sky Knight squadron. The Rebel Ducks had their own reasons and beliefs. The engineers who worked on Glockenheime said they had to stay neutral. The Timepulse worked for everyone, not just Atmosia.

Sarcasm was easily mistaken for prejudice and even the most well-meaning of hugs could be misinterpreted for something sinister. Loyalty and friendship aboard _the Condor_ became so precious it exceeded the price of commodity and Robin was willing to sell some of her personal belonging if it meant getting the engine crystals they needed. Luckily, they didn't have to.

What was once their weakness – their lack of a terra to protect – became their greatest asset. They were a family regardless of personal vendettas; they chose to work and live together. Although they each remembered a land they once called home, the Storm Hawks were fortunate not to receive the same amount of pressure from the Sky Council to conform. Pitta anticipated the opposite effect, their exile status would put them on the blacklist but the Sky Council must have passed an eye over them.

It didn't matter now, they were safe.

It was hard not to feel disenchanted. Ace had been a member long enough. He was earning his keep; he sent money back to his parents while carefully managing the rest of his savings for the unknown future. He had possessions – a skimmer to call his own. He was an adult now. The boy finally shed his childhood and immersed himself into the uniform of a man.

Just how many people lived in the Atmos? How many uncharted terras? Somewhere, there had to be a better place and a better way to life instead of watching this world tear itself apart as one nation turned away from their neighbour. What everyone needed was order, not the chaos looming above their heads under the guise of a cheery, atmospheric dome. There were deadly storms hidden in that blue cloud cover.

And for the first time, the black-haired youth wanted to do something memorable aside from his personal fantasies of fame and glory. He wanted to do something epic, something with a higher purpose. He didn't want to change history, he wanted to _create_ it.

* * *

Robin got a call from one of her other friends. They were all preparing for movie night, a tradition everyone on board enjoyed, when the doctor passed the cockpit and noticed the red flashing signal. Picking up the communicator, he spoke into the mouthpiece and put the caller on hold.

He was already there with the two women. Tonight's film was supposed to be mindless entertainment, as summarized by Ibis, with lots of adventure and archaeological finds and rolling balls of stone. Ace wasn't a movie buff, but judging from everyone else's faces he discerned they were mostly watching it for the main character – well, the leader actor.

For once, the mechanic didn't have a trace of grease on her and her monkey suit wasn't staining the well-worn couch. She was listening intently to the microwave in the kitchen while trying to keep up with Ibis's chattering. The smell of popcorn wafted in from the adjacent room and as soon as the rest of the squadron gathered in the galley minus Manakin, Robin popped up from the couch to grab two large bowls for the snack food.

"What are you reading?" He asked as he followed her into the kitchen and noticed the magazine she laid down on the counter. She pushed back her bangs with the heel of her hand, opened the microwave door, and shook the steaming bag. She smiled.

"The latest issue of _Engine Plus._ I was looking for some new parts for this old bird. What do you think about replacing the Crystal Converters?"

He held one of the large aluminum bowls ready as she tore open the top of the package and turned it upside-down. They had just eaten dinner less than two hours before, and yet the smell of hot butter made his mouth salivate.

"Manny won't like this," Robin continued as she whirled around and threw another bag of instant popcorn into the machine. "I said I would add spice, but it's just not the same without butter."

"Then add spice," he answered with a sly grin. "He can't argue that you didn't."

She laughed and pushed back the hair from her face again. "Ace, I like your thinking."

He returned to the galley with one aluminum bowl full of fresh popcorn. Immediately, the rest of the team jumped on the scent of hot butter and grabbed handfuls out of the container before he finally reached the couch.

"What's taking Robin so long? The film's about to start." Ibis stated impatiently.

"Easy, there. It's just the previews – they're not important."

"If you're the film company it is. That's where they get their revenue."

Manny entered the galley with a look of urgency on his face. Scanning the room, he stared at Jay just a little bit longer before turning towards the couch – and the empty spot between Ibis and Ace.

"Where is she?" They all knew whom he referred to, and they all pointed towards the kitchen. The doctor stalked over there while the rest of the patient movie-watchers stared at each other with silly looks on their faces. The carrier pilot yawned and rubbed at his eyes while their captain leaned over on his chair and rested his elbows on his knees. Robin appeared with Manny in tow. Without looking at any of them, she answered their unmentioned questions.

"You can start the movie without me, but tell me what happened. Popcorn's on the counter. I put spice. I'll be back."

Ten minutes into the film and already three heads had been taken off. Ace wondered just what kind of movie Ibis like to watch as she tucked her legs under her body and enjoyed the show. It was definitely entertaining, but he was curious how long it took for a phone call. So he leaned over the arm of the couch and muttered his question to the redhead in low tones so he wouldn't disturb everybody else.

The older man shrugged his shoulders and gave such a look that said, "Old friends. They have to catch up."

Thirty minutes. Almost one-third of the film and still the mechanic didn't reappear. While the three men closest to the screen were engrossed in the adventures of the main character and his feisty damsel in distress, the warrior woman and the Sky Knight gave each other uneasy glances as the muscles in their legs tingled in idleness. The woman spoke first.

"Who called, Manny?"

"Not sure. From her terra they said, someone she graduated with." The blonde, stocky man leaned back in his chair more and crossed his arms over his chest.

"I'm going to check on her." And Ibis left.

Less than five minutes later she returned. With a stern expression on her face, she crept up behind the doctor and tapped him on the shoulder. No words were spoken during this silent exchange, but Ace knew something wasn't right.

They left.

He started to worry; the movie wasn't as exciting anymore. Even the carrier pilot and the poker guy were distracted by the real life commotion and tore their eyes long enough from the screen to question the whereabouts of the rest of the team. It was movie night, it was tradition, and spiced popcorn was already cold.

Ibis returned again, her olive complexion harboured a permanent scowl as she locked eyes with the couch and rummaged through the cushions for something in particular.

"What's wrong?" he jumped up when the woman shooed him off the furniture.

"Robin." She answered hastily as she waved everyone away from her and tore the couch apart. "It wasn't a happy call." Her head snapped up and she made a beeline for the kitchen. The remaining boys stayed in the galley. When Ibis returned they stared at the box of tissues in one hand and the forgotten _Engine Plus_ magazine in the other.

Someone who was not Ace had the courage to ask. "Who is it?"

The reply was strained; tight. "I don't know. They just graduated together."

- - -

The movie forgotten, the popcorn left to go stale – nobody could go to bed without passing the cockpit which currently was off-bounds. They hovered on the bridge, paced back and forth; anywhere where they were out view but within earshot. And yet, they pretended not to hear the mumble of voices coming from the room.

It was courtesy not to look when someone was sad. Even the Storm Hawks, a group of strangers who grew into an adopted family, had the politeness not to walk in on a crying woman. But now that they knew the situation, Ace's stomach twisted in anxiety when he become conscious a part of him wanted to run away. He cursed his keen hearing and his curiousity. He wished the phone call had been delayed for just one day. Tonight was supposed to be fun; they were supposed to immerse their minds in fantasy.

Just one day to forget about work, and life couldn't give them that.

She didn't really know him, the guy – the subject of the phone call - and yet she cried. She hadn't talked to him in over a year, and updates on old acquaintances usually came in the form of gossip with former schoolmates. It didn't matter; he was still someone's son. Someone's lover. Someone's friend.

Ace wondered if he would feel the same way about his own.

_Probably not._

He distanced himself too far to become intimate with any of them. In his quest to become the top student, he left them all behind.

The boy looked at the Sky Knight. He looked back. Red eyes met green and a feeling, an almost tangible connection of friendship and camaraderie renewed between them. Words hurt, but they also soothed. So what if they were Atmosian? They were friends. No, closer than that.

_Family._ They were a family.

Jay's footsteps made more noise on the bridge than he intended to, but the redhead kept walking on. The black-haired youth watched his back as the other man approached the cockpit, and snuck a peek inside the brightly lit room and the three people inside.

The Sky Knight kneeled in front of the woman, and the tilt of his head indicated he said a few words to her. Then Robin's arms came up around his neck, a crumpled tissue clenched between the fingers of her pale hands – and they hugged.

Jay picked her up easily, like a teenager that weighed almost nothing, and carried her towards her room.

Her best friend followed. Her best friend's lover stood up and rubbed his face with both palms. He looked tired in the bright light in comparison to the dimness of the galley where the movie continued playing for no one. Manakin looked angry. Worn. And the doctor said,

"Show's over, nothing to see here."

* * *

Logic was more reliable than emotion. Logic could be trusted, but emotions swayed a person's actions.

When was the last time he cried? When was the last time he truly felt the loss of someone? It was almost seven years ago when his grandfather passed away. Yes, that must have been it.

When he graduated from the Academy, he didn't cry either. Didn't feel very sad at all. He had no reason to with no one to celebrate for him. It wasn't productive to show an emotional face in front of professionals, and despite shows of affection between parents and children, he was almost glad his parents weren't present at the ceremony. Their presence would have marked their status as foreigners even more – Cyclonians.

He kept his promise to Ibis. He didn't engage in brawls with former classmates positioned in other squadrons, not that there was much time to. If a mission called for a joint team, then it was done. More calls came in, and every time the radio light came on the carrier pilot reached into the cooler underneath his seat and wondered whether another member of the organization fell. The chances were increasing alarmingly high.

There was an overflow of emotions in this world that Ace decided to join, and yet hardly a peep about his homeland. A mention here and there in the news. His radio conversations with his parents became his main source of information, and even that grew scarce. Atmosian technology was improving. They had to be careful not to get flagged.

"How are you doing?" They asked.

"Fine."

He felt chaos growing in his bones like cancer. Terra Cyclonia suffered as well. They didn't want to go to war, they didn't want to give up their children, but if political and economic strain continued into the New Year it was inevitable.

"Master Cyclonis gave an announcement yesterday."

"And?"

"His wife is going to have a child."

* * *

He wrote in his journal more than ever. They were jumbled words; phrases of fragments of conversations, moments of each Storm Hawk members that made him question whether they trusted him or not. Ibis stopped seeing other men, Jay started to become serious. The carrier pilot was drinking more than ever. He suspected someone on _the Condor_ had connections with a Rum Runner or else there Pitta was very adept at stealing and storing booze on the airship.

He had to keep his eyes open.

Where did he belong? If he defined himself as a Storm Hawk, then he followed the Codes of Conduct given by the Sky Knight organization, who were governed by the Sky Council. Therefore, he was Atmosian.

But it would be dishonourable to forget his parents' sacrifice and the final days of his grandfather. He passed through four years of prejudice during his Academy days. Natural talent made him a good student, while motivation made him excel beyond comparison. If something happened to him during one of their missions, would his classmates get concerned? How would they remember him?

Fed up with everything, he gripped his pen and carved the following words into his journal.

_I'm proud to be Cyclonian. I'm proud to be who I am._

There were no more letters. No more photographs. Just the rare phone call.

_The Condor_ was flagged down and given a warning for using illegal radio communication. There were conspiracies. All terras, including Cyclonia, were switching from paper to messenger crystals, which were easier to produce and keep track of.

When questioned whom they kept in contact with, Pitta made the mistake of looking down at his feet. That was his death sentence. The patrol officers requested the Sky Knight to take his carrier pilot aside and Jay had to relent. He returned two hours later with a hanged head. He was blacklisted.

The salaries of every squadron increased, almost a dollar higher since the last time their wages changed. While the doctor described it as the "first good fucking idea" since who knows when, all hard-earned earnings went towards better food and artillery. The Sky Knight wasn't the only one who carried a specialized weapon anymore.

Everyone kept quiet when the next assignment arrived. They were going into Cyclonian territory to relieve a small village-like terra from Talon invasion.

The Storm Hawks couldn't look at their youngest member in the eye.

* * *

There was a Cyclonian amongst them.

He thought he belonged to no one and that there was no place for him. His childhood dream of living on the Condor became just that – a dream. Regardless of how others treated him, he knew he was an adult - perhaps younger in years and experience, but an adult nonetheless. The transition from boyhood to manhood coincided with the changing of the world, from one of uncertainty to war. No textbook, no instructor could have warned him for this, and even if they did, they wouldn't understand. He was the minority. They wanted to be the victors.

On his break he went down to the kitchen. It was almost midnight and it was his turn to pilot the airship through an otherwise, calm night. Digging his teeth securely into the ball of sticky rice, he climbed up the rungs of the ladder and took a bite once his feet touched the floor of the bridge. He heard voices, whispery ones. The alarm in his chest went off immediately and he hid in an adjacent corridor before the others suspected their privacy was compromised. There was a male voice, (_"If things turned out different…"_) closely followed by a female sigh. (_"That won't work on me, Manny."_)

Red eyes spied the doctor and the mechanic together; the former with his back leaning against the walls and the latter with her arms hanging by her sides. Jay's words resurfaced (_"Old friends. They have to catch up."_) and echoed loudly in the space of his mind. For a brief moment, he hated them. The doctor rested his forehead on hers. He smiled. Ace's heartbeat sped up and he felt another layer of subversion rest upon his soul. Here was another secret with many different interpretations.

"I love Ibis."

"I know."

"Our carrier pilot's going to need someone to watch his back. I'll volunteer to go with him." Silence. A beat. He was in the presence of another heart breaking again. "Robin Quelea, bear the children that I can't have."

And then the New Year arrived and with it, snow and a whirlwind marriage. He wasn't the only one who thought the timing was ill-received, but it was done. Initially it was supposed to be formal, with approximately eighty guests who would have been a mixture of family and friends, and Ace would have had the chance to meet them all.

But less than two weeks before the wedding came the war.

She wore white while he wore his best military uniform. Ace looked at the couple, bright and optimistic and just a little bit older. He was happy for them, there were no doubt they were meant to be together. The eighty guests trickled down to a mere fifteen, and they were all members of squadrons. The Storm Hawks had just completed a mission with The Rebel Ducks from Terra Gale, and the Cyclonian was reunited with the pretty black-haired girl from the Academy.

Columbine hardly recognized him.

The newlywed couple hoped to take _the Condor_ for their honeymoon, but with the drastic change of plans it seemed unlikely. The squadron needed to be on alert should the Sky Council hail them for an emergency retaliation on the Talons, and both teams would be hard-pressed if one of their captains were absent.

But luck was with them that day. The Sky Knight of Terra Gale offered to harbour Jay's squadron for the two days of his honeymoon, and promised to hail him over the radios should anything go amiss. It was a risky call, but then again, what wasn't? If they didn't go now, they never would. They still had to enjoy life a little.

Then the honeymoon was over and before the first fatality of the fledgling war was announced, Robin was pregnant. He counted back to the night the child was possibly conceived, and then in his mind, it became a race.

There was Master Cyclonis's child - the next heir to the Cyclonian throne. The last he heard from his parents they told him it was supposed to be a girl. Then there was Jay and Robin's unborn child, gender unknown as of yet, but judging from the hair colour of the parents he knew the baby's hair would be a bright red.

It's a fact the future is held in the hands of the children. Now he just had to decide which child to protect.

Such a shame she had to be the mechanic. As the woman's stomach grew larger, the more the Sky Knight worried. The hisses and the leaks in the engine room made his hair turn gray, and he kept persuading her to get out of there as fast as she could. But it was her job, she protested, she was being careful. Ace took the initiative to stay around her, one part genuine concern and the other part curiosity. He had been thinking about leaving the Storm Hawks for quite some time now, almost a full month, but the idea of going into private hire wasn't so appealing yet.

He would wait until the child grew some more. Maybe Robin would have a miscarriage; maybe she would discover some horrible disease in her womb which meant she had to abort the baby. Either way, Ace wanted to wait.

And he prayed for a little more time.

The baby survived. One of the Storm Hawks did not. Eventually, the auburn-haired woman had to leave the ship due to safety precautions. It was only one child, but the unborn meant so much to the Sky Knight that he ordered his wife to leave the Condor and return home to her mother. They fought. She yelled. Ibis was forbidden from entering her best friend's room until she had cooled down. The Blue Jay had a breakdown.

Missions were too risky, and despite her necessary skills, one well-placed bomb from an attacking ship could mean the loss of his son. Everything was a threat now, and he couldn't risk it. The cockpit was deathly quiet and for the first time, Ace felt genuine danger in the presence of the Sky Knight. In a fit of anguish, the captain yanked back the pilot's seat and kicked at the cooler underneath. Aluminum cans of beer and chilled coolers rolled out on the floor, clinking and clanking everywhere.

The redhead picked one frosted glass up to his face and stared hard at it. Ace held his breath.

Jay slammed his foot down in fury. An aluminum can exploded and the floor smelled of beer.

* * *

They lost Hihi. The strange, quiet poker-playing man from the southern quadrants never came back from one of his recon missions. They waited for a week, then a month, but then they had to stop on orders from the Sky Council.

The end of the Storm Hawks grew closer and closer, and the Cyclonian preferred to have the days whiz past him in an angry blur. Master Cyclonis's child was born. His sorceress wife had a vision which proved true – the child was a girl. Robin's child was a boy. A redhead, he heard, just like his father with light eyes that one day, might turn green.

By this time, he hated the warrior woman, Ibis. He refused to openly discuss the bitterness and the anger against her, only that he hated her unyielding belief in the Sky Council. She killed a Cyclonian – she killed a_ Talon_ – notwithstanding her pleas of self-defense, he couldn't forgive her.

Ace was alone now. Everybody was. Never had the Storm Hawks been so close together and yet so far apart. With one woman on maternity leave, another missing and presumably dead, morale had reached an all-time low. Their carrier pilot was still on the blacklist, and for the first time, their Sky Knight had to define the boundaries between personal and professional. He wasn't just a leader now. He was a father.

The team hadn't seen Robin since she gave birth. She was still back at home, but there was no doubt the doctor and Ibis would be the godparents. Ace was almost relieved they didn't ask him – and yet he wished they did. It might have altered the future just enough; it just might have saved Jay's life.

And then it came. The betrayal. He wasn't even a Talon yet, and his parents had no idea his actions would help turn the tide in favour of Terra Cyclonia, but it was done. He remembered going into Wasteland territory with the Rex Guardians, recalled the Interceptors had to be hailed back to help another squadron – he could still smell the stink of ash and sulphur in the air as the airship neared the massive black citadel where Master Cyclonis made his empire.

The Storm Hawk stared at the complex. The building rose out of the mountains, like a monolith of black crystal that grew out of the ground. It was ugly, it was beautiful. It was everything he never thought it would be. His heart ached. He wanted to cry…

_He was home._

Ibis yelled when the light in his red eyes changed. He didn't say a word and already she knew he turned. She was the first to go. He gutted her in the stomach just like he imagined she did to the unnamed Talon. There was a flash of sorrow for her, just a quick moment of pity and then it was gone. Engine roared all around him, and to his surprise Hihi arrived. He wasn't dead; he was detained by the Talons before the Screaming Queens bailed him out.

It happened quickly. It was a battle – what else was he supposed to say? The rebellion he felt when he yanked the double-bladed sword from his Sky Knight's sheath, the way he held it against his exposed neck? The look of horror in his green eyes?

All gone now. There was nothing left.

_The Condor _fell from the sky.

He met Master Cyclonis for the first time.

He went back home to his parents. He expected open arms. Instead, he received blank stares. That night, he gathered up his belongings into a single box and moved into the Master's citadel to train as a Talon. He didn't have to worry; he knew he'd rise in the ranks in no time. His parents were Atmosian sympathizers and until they learned the error of their ways, they were estranged.

It was all secondhand news, but two Cyclonian battleships snuck into Atmosian territory and razed a terra to the ground. Supposedly it was the Storm Hawk's adopted home, and the Talons in the galley cheered and hooted in their victory. Ace sat in his seat, drank some water from his cup and tore a piece of bread before he placed it inside his mouth.

They were wrong. The Sky Knight didn't have a terra, he never did. What they just destroyed was Robin's home. Talon commanders reported there were no survivors from the attack and even that piece of information he marked incorrect. He knew that was where the Sky Knight's fledgling family sought sanctuary – and although there was no evidence to support she escaped the raid, he was sure she survived. The mechanic and her son. All that was left of the Storm Hawks.

He never heard from her again. Not in mention, not in passing. As if she disappeared off the face of the planet, the auburn-haired woman took her child and went into refuge. As a Talon, he never sought her out. She was an exile, and as long as she didn't call herself a Storm Hawk he had no business with her and her son.

Maybe he was wrong. Maybe she was really dead. He never saw the child. And to think, all it had to take to spare her husband's life was to name the boy his godson.

Often he dreamt of a reunion with the woman who was a best friend and an older sister to him. He'd imagine her reaction, wonder what she would say when she had to face the man he had become. If he was bored or simply waiting for one of his Master's orders, he'd lounge about in his personal quarters and postulate her mysterious disappearance. It was more than a year now. He had given her up for dead.

He wasn't the type to hold regrets. Here, in Cyclonia, he learned how to use fear as a tactic instead of agreement. He knew what he had to do to get his subordinates in line. He was a high-ranking officer, but not the Master's champion yet. He could have no hesitations, he couldn't look back. What good did it do? He couldn't change the past.

But what he would miss was the feeling of a family he once had onboard _the Condor_. The messed-up, functional coordination of seven people who all lived and worked together: the androgynous pilot with a drinking problem, the unusual man that hailed from the south. The warrior woman and her lover.

Jay and his never-ending trust.

Robin and her love.

How much they cared for him. How much they believed in him, and how he repaid that love in turn.

_"You'd never leave us, would you?"_

No, he admitted. They never would.


End file.
